Expell, the reflection I see.
Lydia... Lydia, I hear.Is it calling me?
Black glass and paper tears.
Myself is who I fear.
Red substance and razor blades.
Why am I so afraid?...
Restless nights,black and white.
Crawling sensations,hallucinations.
Get the Kodak, what did I look like before Prozac?
YOU ARE READING
Unniched.
Poetry"Unniched" is not bound by themes or constraints; rather, it thrives in the randomness of inspiration. These poems are a mosaic of emotions, thoughts, and observations, woven together by the thread of randomness that knows no boundaries. As you flip...
